


Mr. Frodo's new clothes

by Gilli_ann



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Crack, Fluff, Limericks, M/M, Sexual Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-25
Updated: 2017-04-30
Packaged: 2018-04-01 02:41:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4002742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gilli_ann/pseuds/Gilli_ann
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mr. Frodo has new magnificent clothes made for his birthday party, but they appear to be quite invisible. Will anyone dare tell him as much?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: 'The emperor's new clothes' was originally written by H.C. Andersen, of course, while all the LotR characters and places belong to the Tolkien Estate. I intend no copyright infringement and make no profit.
> 
> This was originally posted to LJ.

Many, many years ago there lived a very well-to-do and good-looking hobbit who thought much of beautiful new clothes made of velvet, silk and linen. He spent a lot of his money on such finery. Perhaps his only ambition in this was to always be the best dressed hobbit in the Shire, and perhaps he wanted the clothes to make someone special take notice of him. Who knows? 

Certainly a time came when he seemed to be pining, despite all those lovely new clothes. He did not care for his books, and walking cross country with his cousins did not amuse him. He had new coats for every hour of the day; - and he could either be found in his dressing-room, probably donning the latest fashion, or walking out in his garden, in order to air his new clothes properly, or so he said.

He lived in Hobbiton, which is a very quiet and peaceful place. Yet sometimes strangers from other parts of the world would come to visit, in particular bands of dwarves, who always found a warm welcome with our hobbit at his home of Bag End. 

One day two dwarf swindlers came to town. They stated that they were weavers and tailors and that they could manufacture the finest cloth to be imagined. Their colors and patterns, they said, were not only exceptionally beautiful, but the clothes made of their material also had the magic quality of being invisible to any hobbit who was unpardonably stupid. 

Our hobbit was not fooled by this trickery for a moment, of course, for he was a very perceptive and smart hobbit, and being the owner of a real magic ring besides he would know about such things. But he had a bright idea, and so he visited the weavers nevertheless. 

“This is most wonderful cloth,” he told the two dwarves politely. “And not only is it beautiful, but if I dressed in clothes made entirely of this cloth I should be able to prove which ones of my many relatives are truly stupid, among all those I suspect to be so. So please make me a full set of clothes without delay.” 

He gave a large sum of money to the swindlers so they should set to work at once. And the dwarves pretended to work very hard all day and into the night, but they did nothing whatever on their looms, and had no thread in their needles. They did buy the finest silk and softest velvets, but only to hide it away to resell it later. 

Now, the rumors of the wonderful magic clothes that the dwarves were making for our hobbit, whose name by the way was Mr. Frodo Baggins, traveled far and wide in the Shire. Yes, for a while this was all the Shire hobbits could talk about. Most did not hold with this type of suspicious magic, and thought it neither respectable nor proper. In fact they considered it dangerous and adventurous to boot. Yet some there were who had reasons to want to see the clothes. And our hobbit made all welcome and bade them visit the dwarves and look at the clothes as much as they'd like.

Lobelia Sackville-Baggins and her son Lotho went first, with several of their neighbors in tow. The two wanted their own outstanding intelligence confirmed, and they wanted proof of how very stupid their neighbors were. Also they were anxious to have a closer look at the clothes on which “that Brandybuck” (Which is what they called our mr. Baggins), was spending, still in their words: “Obscene amounts of _our_ money on!” 

The swindlers greeted them politely, pointing out the exquisite patterns and the fine colors, the softness of the material and the beauty of the stitching. 

The visitors tried their very best, but of course they could not see anything, for there was nothing to be seen. Lobelia was shocked beyond words. 

“Oh dear,” she thought. “Can I be so stupid? I should never have thought so, and though this is probably some vile dwarven trickery concocted by that scoundrel Bilbo, wherever he resides these days, nobody must know! How embarrassing! I cannot say that I am unable to see the clothes!” 

All the other local hobbits who ventured in to see the clothes thought exactly the same.

Mr. Baggins’ cousins, Meriadoc Brandybuck and Peregrin Took, also visited the swindlers. They were not fooled at all, for they were bright and clever but without any haughty pride. However, they thought it the most perfect joke in the world to have their cousin walk around in public wearing non-existent clothes, and they wouldn’t spoil that joke for anything. 

The Bag End gardener also visited the swindlers, shyly and curiously. He much admired his employer and the way he looked in all his fine clothes. After having heard his employer talk at length about the lovely new clothes being made for him, he was eager to be able to praise them. He wasn’t fooled by the swindlers, but his heart sank and his spirits plummeted, sadly realizing that his employer seemingly was delusional enough to think he was seeing clothes where none existed. There were so many hobbits a-saying that Mr. Frodo wasn’t just strange, but in fact quite and utterly mad, and now he had to wonder whether there wasn't something to that daft talk after all. 

He needed to think carefully about what to do, and how to break the truth gently to Mr. Frodo, for he didn’t want to upset him for all the elven poetry in the whole world.

And so you can see why every one of the visitors who went to see the swindlers had a reason to tell them that they could in fact see the clothes; - praising the patterns, the cloth, the colors and the craftsmanship. They all said they believed the clothes to be among the most beautiful ever made. 

The swindlers were very pleased about their own cunning, and continued both their work and their excessive use of money.

Very soon came the day when they visited Mr. Baggins and delivered the clothes to him at Bag End, pretending to display, one by one, the shirt and the trousers and the vest and the coat and the cloak, describing each item with many a flourish. And Mr. Baggins was very pleased. 

"Really,” he said politely to the dwarves, “The clothes have my most gracious approval. How magnificent, beautiful, and excellent! I will wear them to my birthday party tomorrow.” He nodded contentedly, and could of course not possibly know that his gardener, who just _happened_ to stand right outside the door of his study, flinched at these words and started gnawing rather desperately on a finger-nail.

The swindlers took their leave, and hurried back to the inn to pack their belongings and all their hidden money and stolen goods. They left the very next morning and were never seen in the Shire again. 

On the next day, the day of the birthday party, Mr. Baggins’ gardener was kneeling in the garden, trimming the grass just outside his employer’s bedroom window. He still did not know what to do or how to tell Mr. Frodo not to wear those invisible clothes that his employer was so happy about. He felt very miserable. His state of mind did not change any when Mr. Frodo opened the window to speak to him, although this event did have the side effect of causing a soft rosy blush to spread over his face.

“Oh, Sam!" Mr. Frodo said. ” I’m trying on my new clothes before the party and I would like to have your opinion. Could you please be kind enough to come in here and tell me honestly what you think and how they fit me?”

Walking into the smial and towards Mr. Frodo’s bedroom, Sam hoped that his loud surprised gulp at that particular request hadn’t been too noticeable. He still was at a loss about what to do and say, and moreover he was very distracted, because his heart was beating so hard that he thought it quite ready to burst out of his chest. 

After a moment’s hesitation he stepped into the bedroom and stopped short, speechless despite the fact that he’d already opened his mouth to speak. Now he didn’t even remember to close it again.

Mr. Frodo was standing before the large dressing mirror, smiling and nodding briefly at Sam before turning his full attention back to his own reflection, twisting slowly now this way, now that. 

“Oh, isn’t it a marvel?” Mr. Frodo crooned. ”The cloth is as light as a cobweb, and I feel just as if I had nothing at all upon my body. That is the beauty of it. What do you think? Isn’t it marvelous? Step closer! Come feel for yourself!” 

Mr. Frodo smiled brightly, and if Sam had only noticed, also with the tiniest flutter of joy and triumph at Sam’s befuddled look.

Sam was dumbfounded, his throat completely dry, and his brain seemingly having decided to close up shop for the day. The vision of Mr. Frodo before him was one he’d often enough had secret and naughty daydreams about, but the real thing put all those dreams to shame. Especially when reflected in the mirror, so that he in fact was seeing *two* Mr. Frodos, turning slowly, arching their backs, craning their necks, almost writhing quite sinuously.….. while wearing absolutely nothing at all.

”Beautiful!” Sam managed to croak at last. 

Mr. Frodo turned and started walking towards him slowly, smiling very softly and very happily. His eyes were shining. “Oh Sam, do you truly think so?” he murmured. 

Sam felt as torn in two as he’d ever felt in his whole life. For all he wanted Mr. Frodo to continue looking jubilantly just like that, he couldn’t delay telling him the truth any more. He thought it would be the saddest thing in the world, to make Mr. Frodo realize that there were no clothes and that he was imagining things. He dreaded seeing that lovely smile dissolve into tears, and he wasn’t happy knowing that soon enough that beautiful body would be firmly wrapped in a dressing gown. 

“Sir!” Sam blurted out rather desperately. “You have nothing on at all!” 

Mr. Frodo stopped right in front of him, slowly looking down at himself and then up again, with a distinctly queer gleam in his eyes. ”I have nothing on..…. at all?” he said musingly. “Why Sam, I do believe you are right! But why then did you pretend to like the way I looked, earlier on? ” 

Sam turned beet red. He still found thinking difficult. Once more he blurted out the plain truth: “Begging your pardon, Mr. Frodo, but I did _not_ pretend, if you follow me. You look…... You are……beautiful.” And again he stopped, at a complete loss for further words. 

Mr. Frodo took one step closer. In fact he came so close that Sam could feel his softly exhaled sigh caress his own face. 

“I am glad, Sam. So very glad! More glad than you’ll ever know. I hoped you felt this way, but I despaired at ever getting you to speak up and admit it. You always kept so quiet, and kept to your place! Can you find it in your heart to forgive me for deceiving you?” 

So saying, Mr. Frodo leaned forward, and softly nuzzled one of Sam’s enticingly rosy ears. “Is there _anything_ I can do to make amends?” he whispered into it lovingly.

Of course there _was_ something he could do, and he didn’t even have to leave the room or to put on clothes to do it. 

Sam forgave him on the spot, and very soon recovered his voice, too – he got rather loud, when truth be told. But luckily, Lobelia was not sniffing around Bag End just then, for she was still at home, secretly pining under the knowledge of her own stupidity. And although Merry and Pippin may in fact have heard something, since they arrived early for the party to be the first to laugh at Frodo in his birthday suit, they didn’t tell anyone. They were far too busy pondering the best use of their new-found knowledge in designing the next prank to be played on their cousin and their cousin’s gardener.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To get even with Frodo, Sam challenges him to do something risky. (Yes, this one chapter is in limerick style!)

Though enjoying his master all nude  
Sam decided to show a wee bit ‘tude  
He said: "Really, sir, I  
could be hurting! Now why  
did you trick me by means far from prude?"

Answered Frodo, extremely contrite:  
"Dearest Sam, let us nevermore fight!  
If I overstepped, you  
can decide what to do!  
Challenge me - anything, and I’ll bite!

Sam considered these words for a while  
Then made up his mind boldly and smiled  
mischievously, sweet,  
and expecting a treat;  
Naughty fun, just like a hobbitpile!

With a soft kiss he said: "My most dear,  
I agree it would be more than fair  
that you give me redress.  
In a state of undress  
face the dragon herself in her lair!

Let Lobelia meet you and see  
Just how dashing your new clothes can be!  
'specially when  
they’re invisible, then  
you’ll be completely even with me.

Keep your dignity, make her believe  
that you’re handsomely dressed. To achieve  
really making her think  
_that_ , - means more than a chink  
in her armour. It’ll look like a sieve!"


	3. Next steps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam is as good as his master at keeping up appearances.

“You should straighten your back a little, Sir,”, Sam said critically. “And adjust the cuffs on your jacket a bit, like – so as to show me how you make it sit straight and all.”

Frodo looked over at him, his expression very glum. He was standing in front of the dressing mirror, preparing for his evening walk to meet Lobelia, trying his best to appear confident and relaxed, not to mention properly dressed and generally in command. He felt he wasn’t quite there yet. In fact, he felt he was failing abysmally. And Sam’s helpful hints just weren’t helping.

“You’re enjoying this entirely too much”, Frodo said accusingly.

Sam made a little strangled noise, but did not deny it. Instead he rose from the bed where he’d been lying idle, intent on the sight in front of him, and walked over to Frodo. His left hand made contact and stroked feather-lightly along Frodo’s back from his nape downwards, while the other flicked at some near-invisible dust specks on his shoulder. 

“These clothes here are so wondrously fine and rare that they must be believed to be seen! Don’t you let *anyone* ever forget the magic of that!” He let his hand wander freely, testing and demonstrating. “The fabric is so soft, and so smooth, it feels just like the tender caress of bare skin to the hand. It’s lovely.”

Frodo, though utterly exasperated and, truth be told, in a near-panic, still couldn’t stop himself from leaning into Sam’s continued survey-by-touch. Sam subtly increased the pressure and crooned admiringly. 

“Why, the fabric’s so light, but look here how it still keeps flawless and supple as ever, and it doesn’t wrinkle at all, even with a lot of wear and tear and handling and hard……. oh, really hard….. use”, Sam mused on, now using both hands to demonstrate his point.

“Uhng”, Frodo commented helpfully. 

Sam turned Frodo around and looked at him critically, up and then down. He shook his head disapprovingly. 

“This will never do, Mr. Frodo. What will that miss Lobelia say? Well, I did tell you to stand up straight and look her right in the eye, of course. But soft fabrics and lovely colors won’t help when everything’s so askew and out of shape!

His hands descended, intent on making the necessary adjustments. 

“No, I don’t think she’ll hold with your lack of regard for the proper - and right - and suitable – and decent - and uhm – oh, yes, snug - fit - in front of elderly female relatives at all, if you follow me. Not if you come before her like this. “

Frodo wailed. Lobelia would have thought the sound far too loud for any sort of propriety.


End file.
